It is late afternoon.

The bay stretches out before me,

beautiful in its simplicity.

The bright orange sun

paints a trail of gold-tipped bronze

to the water at my feet.

It is very still.

I can hear the murmur of the fishermen,

farther down the dock,

their fishing almost done;

the cry of sea birds;

the somber clang of the bouhy bell.

The sky changes color little by little.

From a lovely light blue,

it deepens gradually.

The land at the horizon seems

like a watercolor; muted,

shrouded in mist.

The sky is banded with

violets and pinks.

The sun itself, shimmering, alters.

It is a deep red circle

sinking toward its rest.

Slow, so slowly, it lowers

nearer to the water.

So slowly, it is drawn down

On its inevitable journey

Now the time passes more quickly;

faster now -

closer -


Without a whisper,

it sinks into the bay.

You can almost hear the hiss.

ellie maziekien©

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